Love's Not Time's Fool 3 - In the Bleak Mid-Winter
by wren-kt7oz
Summary: This one is 3rd in the trilogy and it's a death!fic Valentine's story. Having written two stories about dead!Justin it isn't surprising that this one is a Brian death!fic. You've been warned. You're just going to have to trust me a little. Dead or alive, he's still (I hope) recognisably Brian. And the way I see it, it's still ridiculously romantic. But maybe that's just me.


Gus stood in the small dining room that had echoed so often with laughter, staring blindly at the table already set for the Valentine's Dinner that was never going to happen now. Dimly he was aware of the sound of Justin's weeping coming from the master bedroom across the hallway. He tried to gather his courage to go in and try to comfort him; there was no one else to do it now after all, and he knew his father would expect it of him. But he needed a moment to collect himself, to get past his own grief and bitter disappointment.

Both he and Brian had been so sure that in death Brian's spirit would join his young lover's, and that they would either "move on" together (whatever the fuck that meant) or they'd both … well, haunt the place they'd shared for the last ten years in their, to say the least of it, unconventional relationship.

But just over an hour ago Brian's worn out body had finally lost the fierce battle he'd been fighting against the cancer that had invaded most of his major organs; and since then … nothing. Justin was inconsolable, desperately fearing being left alone himself, and even more fearful that Brian was facing the same horrible non-life that he himself had once experienced, wandering endlessly though a featureless dim grey cloud – devoid of all warmth and form, aware only of soul deep loneliness. Gus knew that Justin would have thrown himself headlong back into that void if it would have saved Brian from that fate. But as things were …

Gus's fingers traced the rim of the ice bucket which was waiting in vain now for the sparkling apple juice that was as close as Justin could get to drinking champagne without, as his father had once said, totally wiping himself out. The fact that Justin's spirit-body was totally unable to process alcohol had been a constant source of amusement to Brian.

Gus sighed. His father had been so determined to hold out at least until Valentine's Day, wanting to share one more special meal with his beloved Sunshine.

But he was gone now, and deeply as Gus was grieving his loss, he knew that Justin was grieving even more, and there was only Gus who could offer any form of comfort.

Sighing, he walked back to his father's room and entered quietly. Justin was lying spread across his father's body, still weeping forlornly. Gus knew he was going to have to call the doctor and have the body moved, but he had to let Justin have some time to express his grief before even Brian's lifeless body was taken away to places he could not follow.

Justin must have heard him enter, because he finally dragged himself up and came towards him.

"I'm sorry, Gus," he said. "I know you lost him too."

Wordlessly, they clung together in the strange not-quite-embrace that was all their different corporeal states would allow them.

Gus brushed the hair back from the face that never aged, and kissed the not quite there forehead.

"I need to call the doc," he said.

Justin moaned softly, a wounded animal sound, but nodded. "I know."

"We're going to have the wake he planned," Gus affirmed.

Justin nodded again, for Gus's sake valiantly fighting against more tears.

Brian had insisted on planning his own wake, wanting a "good Irish send off" and demanding that it take place in the exercise room immediately under Justin's studio. It would mean that Justin could at least vaguely "be there" although even Gus would have difficulty seeing him.

Ten years ago, the wake would probably have been just Gus plus Albrecht and Jorge, Brian's long time servants. Well, unless Gus had let his mothers know, but he wouldn't have wanted even then to deal with Lindsay's hysterics and Mel's bitter sniping. Maybe Ted and Emmett would have come, if they'd been able to, and perhaps some people from his business life. But there would have been pitifully few people there who really loved him.

But things were different now. Gus had re-married five years ago, and Leisha his wife had adored Brian. From day one she had seen through all his bluster and astringency to the huge heart hidden behind that formidable exterior. And from their very first meeting, Brian had intuitively recognized the deep love she felt for his son, and that had been all he'd needed to admit her to the select few he trusted with his own heart. She was here now, of course, over in "their" wing looking after the kids, Josh and Julia, Brian's grand children. Josh was four going on forty, a whimsical little boy who had flashes of a maturity way beyond his years, while Julia had just turned one. She'd been a Christmas baby, arriving on Christmas Eve. She'd been born right here in the house and her arrival had made that Christmas even more magical than usual. The two little ones had from their birth been able to wind their grandfather round their pudgy little fingers, and they in turn had loved him with all their passionate young hearts. The thought of dealing with his family's grief added to Gus's feelings of despair.

If only his fucking father had … well, appeared. Like he should have, right after he'd died. He'd expected to, Gus knew. Brian might not have believed in much, but he'd firmly believed that he and Justin were so united that their reunion in the spirit world Justin inhabited was simply inevitable. But he'd died a while ago, just as the daylight seeped over the horizon on a cold grey Valentine's Day in fact, and still neither Gus nor Justin had seen any sign of his presence.

So now it was time to accept that, and get on with the things that needed to be done. Giving Justin one last hug, Gus snapped his fingers to activate the telcom voice-remote and made the call that he and Justin were both dreading. From this point on, Brian's body would no longer belong in any sense to them, and they both feared that when it was taken from them any chance of Brian's spirit joining them would disappear with it.

After he swiped to "off" on the telcom, Justin said, "I'm okay, now. You'd better go talk to Leisha and see how she and the kids are doing."

Gus nodded. He knew it wasn't true. He knew Justin was a long way from being okay. And for himself, he was terrified that if he let Justin out of his sight, if he left this part of the house where Justin "lived" that when he returned Justin's spirit also would have left. He didn't think he could handle losing his father and his brother on the same day. He supposed there was something totally weird about regarding his father's ghost lover as some kind of brother. But Justin was … or had been … or at least looked … much younger than Gus himself, so it was hard to think of him as a parent figure, but they'd still become very close over the years, joining in teasing Brian over some of his more outrageous vanities and sharing a creative gift based on their differing fascination with form and color.

Justin expressed his gift on canvas and paper, Gus in his extraordinary garden designs. When he'd first arrived at his father's house he'd blurted out his desire to become a landscape gardener and Brian in his typically understated but rock solid fashion, had offered his unwavering support. So Gus had gone back to school and while studying he'd tried out his growing expertise on the extensive gardens around the house. Justin had even been drawn into leaving the house to explore them and offer his advice. He'd never attempted to go past the gate, but they'd learned that although even Brian couldn't see him outside a narrow boundary based around his studio, Justin could safely wander all across the grounds. He and Gus had had many long discussions about color combinations and layouts and it had finally been Justin's guidance which had led to the installation of the amazing water feature which was one of the garden's highlights.

Working together in this way, they'd become very close quite apart from their relationships to Brian; so Gus really did regard his father's ghostly lover as a brother-figure.

It nearly broke his heart to leave Justin in his distress, but he did need to speak to his wife and try to offer comfort to his children who would be bewildered and upset, he knew, at the loss of their beloved "Ganpa".

To both their disappointments, Leisha had never quite been able to see Justin, but she knew about him. She'd heard his voice almost from the first, and had sometimes had the feeling that there was someone or something just out of reach of her sight in Brian's wing of the house. At first she'd been understandably both skeptical and nervous, but Brian had sat her down and explained how it was. He hadn't tried to persuade her of Justin's existence, just told her the story of how he'd met a sad young artist who turned out to be some kind of ghost.

She'd discussed it later with Gus, and had realized that for both father and son, the fact that Justin wasn't physically alive had become almost irrelevant; somehow in some way he existed, and that existence formed part of her future husband's dearly loved little family.

Gus hadn't actually proposed at that point, but Leisha had pegged him as her future husband the day that a shabby shambling young man had dropped a flower pot onto her toes at the garden center. He'd been disarmingly apologetic and embarrassed, and she'd looked into the deep brown eyes that held an astonishing glimmer of green in their depths and had fallen in love on the spot. They'd had coffee together and he'd told her about the landscaping course he was taking. She'd put him down as someone who maybe had never had the chance to go to college but was now doing his best to get qualifications so he could make a reasonable living at the craft he clearly loved. It wasn't until he'd taken her to meet his father that she'd realized he could have just played at being a garden designer, safe in the knowledge that he would never actually need to earn a living. The knowledge that such a thing wouldn't have occurred to her Gus, that he wasn't a spoilt rich boy but a man who was determined to find his own way in the world made her love him even more. Gus had found the third person in his life (if you counted Justin as a person, which Gus certainly did) who would love and support him unconditionally.

So she and Gus had set up home in their own wing of the house, and when she visited Brian's rooms she always said, "Hi, Justin!" as if she really could see him, which made Justin feel acknowledged in a very particular way that made him (and therefore both Brian and Gus) feel incredibly happy. And she'd never for one moment made Gus feel like she thought he and his father might be slightly crazy.

"My mother used to have pre-cognitive dreams," she'd told him. "She'd dream things about us and then they'd happen exactly like she'd dreamed them – right down to the tiny details. My grandmother read the Tarot and told me when I was in my teens that the Lovers was my card because it had a garden as a background and my true love would bring me to live in the most beautiful garden. Who am I to say your father isn't living with some kind of spirit? It's obviously a really good one, because I've never come across such a happy-feeling house in my life."

But the house didn't feel happy right now.

Gus, safe in his wife's arms, shed a few tears and then they both wiped their faces and tried to explain to the children who were facing their first loss, that Ganpa loved them, would always love them, but that he'd still had to leave them.

Feeling emotionally exhausted, Gus was happy to leave the domestic side of organizing the wake to his wife. He knew that both Albrecht and Jorge would be sincerely sad themselves at his father's death, and he just couldn't face any more grief right then.

He made the calls that he needed to make, and dealt with the doctor when he arrived, grateful that Justin, after placing one last kiss on Brian's cold forehead, vanished into his studio while the doctor made his last examination, and later when they took the body away. Brian had sought, and received, dispensation from the city to be buried in the grounds of the house. He'd hovered over Gus while he'd designed a quiet corner to be his last resting place. Gus knew he'd been so insistent on it because he hadn't been able to bear the thought of leaving the one place where Justin in some way existed.

By the time he'd done, word had already spread and he had to divert the telcom to Brian's business head quarters, leaving the staff there to deal with all inquiries and well wishers. He called Ted and Emmett himself though. He knew that they were the only friends his father recognized and that Brian had valued their friendship, even though they rarely saw each other. They were deeply sympathetic and both said that they would try to get there for the funeral. Emmett had laughed a little when Gus had told him that Brian had wanted an old fashioned Irish wake.

"Oh, honey, you just leave all that to me. I'll let everyone know that Emmy-Lou's Do's will be arranging it all. It's the least I can do for my old friend."

That had lifted a huge weight from Gus, who knew Leisha hated all those kind of arrangements as much as he did. They'd both been dreading the need to make decisions on stuff like what food to serve and whether there should be tea as well as coffee. With Emmett in charge, he knew they had nothing to worry about. Emmy-Lou's Do's had organized their wedding and it had been wonderful. They'd had it right here at the house, of course, so Justin could "be there", which meant that Emmett knew the place and would know just what was needed.

There was one more call that he needed to make.

Very early on in their relationship, Brian had "friended" Justin's sister Molly on various social networks, using information Justin fed him to pose as an old family friend. Over the years, urged on by Justin, they'd chatted online a little, and finally Brian had asked her and her family out to the house for a summer barbeque. Justin had been ecstatic to see his sister, even if she was totally unaware of his existence, and she'd seemed to enjoy the visit as well. They'd all come back a few times since then – at least once a year for the last few years. He knew that it would mean a lot to Justin if she would come to the funeral.

So Gus steeled himself to make this last call.

Then he could go back and check on Justin.

Just as he was ending the call, Leisha came in and sank down onto the couch beside him.

"Emmett called on my cellcom," she said. "Isn't he wonderful?"

Gus smiled at her weakly. "Where are the kids?" he asked.

"Jorge has taken them down to the store," she said. "Then they're going to get a hot chocolate at the little cafe. I didn't want to risk them being around when …"

She stopped, and he nodded. He'd found it almost unbearable himself to watch his father being taken from the house.

"Albrecht asked me what he should do about the Valentine's dinner," she went on. "I told him …" she took a steadying breath and continued, "I told him to leave the table set. That we might still use it for dinner."

Gus shook his head. "Honey, I don't think …"

She tilted her head at him. "I know you haven't … well, seen or heard him yet," she said. "But he believed he'd find Justin and I can't imagine anything stopping Brian Kinney from getting anything he wanted as much as he wanted that. So I believe it too. I believe in him!" she finished, a slightly defiant note in her voice.

Gus stared at her … at this amazing, beautiful woman who somehow, even though she'd never seen Justin, never felt the non-touch of his hand, somehow had more faith even than he did in the power of his father's lover for the young artist.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right," he said. "Tell them they should serve up the meal just like we planned."

They sat for a little while in silence, drawing strength and comfort from each other, but when they heard the car pulling into the drive, Leisha stood. "I'll look after the kids, you need to go look after Justin."

Gus made his way slowly to the studio room where today the usual sunshine glow was absent, leaving the room dull and grey. Outside, it had become bitterly cold, but there was no snow, just a dreary biting sleet beating at the windows.

Justin had smiled at him wanly in greeting, and they'd sat for a while in silence, feeling for the first time awkward around each other, until Gus had suggested that Justin start a new painting, one for his father. He hoped that his friend would find some solace in expressing his grief in his art. So he put a new canvas on the easel and Justin half-heartedly started to swirl his brush across it. Gradually, though, Justin became lost in the painting and Gus found himself staring, as he often did, trying to force his brain to see something of Justin's work, but not surprised when to him the canvas stayed completely pristine.

They were both so absorbed that the interruption when it came was even more startling than it might otherwise have been.

"Fucking finally!" his father's voice said. "I can finally see what the fuck I've been shelling out money on paint for all these fucking years!"

Gus jerked his head around and for a moment could see nothing.

But he didn't need Justin's joyful, "Brian!" to tell him that his father truly was, in some sense at least, back with them, because the room was now filled with a glow so bright that he found himself blinking. As his eyes cleared, he saw Justin, on tiptoe, his arms outstretched, clearly embracing someone; and then, just like that, his father was there. At least, Gus supposed it was his father. But not as he had known him. Not as he remembered him from these last ten years, anyway. This man was … he was young … younger than Gus himself, probably.

But Justin seemed to have no doubt as to who it was, and Gus remembered Justin telling him more than once that he hadn't seen Brian as an old man. "He's not as young as me, but he's still young," Justin had said. "And he's fucking hot!"

Gus had always told him to shut up then and they'd inevitably wound up laughing, but looking at the figure so firmly clasped in Justin's arms now, he realized that this was how Justin had always seen his lover.

He was trying to slip unobtrusively from the room, leaving them to their reunion, when Justin pulled back suddenly and said waspishly, "Where the fuck have you been?"

He punched at Brian's shoulder as he said it and Gus watched as Brian grabbed his hands so Justin couldn't punch him again.

"Sunshine you would not fucking believe what I've been through today so don't fucking start with me."

"You scared me," Justin said in a voice so soft Gus hardly heard it, but carrying even in its softness the absolute terror the young artist had been feeling.

Gus slipped out of the room as his father stroked the beautiful tear-streaked face. "I told you I'd find you. I promised."

Gus stood on the landing for a long moment, collecting himself.

Then he went to tell Leisha that she'd been right not to cancel the Valentine's Day dinner.

*****

"So where were you?" Justin demanded some time later. (Time that they'd spent discovering the joys of finally being on the same plane of existence. Brian felt that if he'd known it was going to be so good to fuck Justin like this, he would have offed himself years ago, but didn't voice the opinion, knowing it would set his young lover off on some kind of rant.)

Brian sighed and tried to settle more comfortably on the bed. He hadn't had Justin's experience in interacting with the physical realm and was finding it more than a little difficult to adjust to that side of his new existence.

"I was in the other fucking house, trying to deal with that pair of drama queens."

Justin sat up.

"The other house? You met them? Us? Are they really us?"

Brian shrugged. "Well, they look like us, I guess," he acknowledged. "At least … that Justin is older but he'd still you, I suppose. But, fuck!"

"What happened?" Justin asked. "What are they like? Brian, fucking tell me!"

Brian struggled to get himself to a position that was upright relative to the bed.

"Well, Sunshine, the problem is that that Brian died too … at the same time, I guess."

Justin got it immediately. "But that Justin is still alive. And they didn't know that they … well, that they might … "

"Yeah," Brian bit out abruptly. Then he sighed again. "Between that Brian fucking freaking out because he didn't want to leave his widdle Sunshine all alone, and that Justin crying so fucking much he nearly flooded the bedroom; not to mention having fucking hysterics when the guys from the morgue came to take the body …"

"So what did you do?" Justin asked, enthralled. "Can I help? How did you get there?"

Brian struggled off the bed, which distracted Justin a little. "Brian, you don't do it like that, you just think of where you want to be, or how you want to be, and then you are," he instructed, only to have his partner instantly disappear.

"Brian!" he half-screamed.

"Don't have a fucking cow, I just went to get a fucking drink but I can't pick up the bottle properly," Brian announced with a pout, reappearing as abruptly as he'd left.

"And you can't drink," Justin informed him. "You know what happens to me if I try to drink alcohol."

Brian glared at him, appalled.

Justin shrugged and moved past him.

"Come and sit in the studio and I'll get you a glass of water or something."

"Can't fucking drink?" Brian seemed stuck on the horrendous concept.

Justin laughed at him. "The good news is you can eat whatever you like without having to worry about the calories or cholesterol," he said consolingly.

Brian wasn't sure it was any kind of trade off, although speaking of eating …

They settled onto the chaise longue in the studio and spent a little while exploring the intricacies of kissing and sucking in this new common state of being.

Both of them liked it. A lot.

"So what happened?" Justin prompted eventually. "Tell me everything."

"Well, there was no fucking white light or any of that shit. I just … woke up, kind of. And he was there – that other Brian – fucking going nuts about who the fuck was I and all that shit. Then he ran out of the room and I followed him and we … turned a corner or something … and then we were in that other house and that Justin was sobbing …"

His arms tightened round his young lover, knowing that it wouldn't have been just that other Justin who'd been weeping inconsolably. "I'm sorry I left you. It just happened. And then it took a while to find the way back."

Justin nodded, rubbing his face against Brian's hand. It didn't matter now. Nothing mattered now except that they were together.

"So what did you do with them?"

"Well, I finally got the big drama queen to calm down enough to explain things to him. As well as I fucking could, anyway. Who could really explain this shit?"

Justin nodded.

"Then he managed to somehow kind of touch his Justin. I guess it was really like a ghost touch … like it was with us, at first."

Justin smiled, remembering the ghost touch of Brian's hand on his hair that first time. Or the non-ghost touch, he supposed.

"So when the little twat finally stopped freaking out, he kind of grabbed Brian's hand like he really knew he was there and I left them to it."

Justin gave a sentimental little sigh. Then a deeper one. "It's going to be harder for them," he said.

"I don't know, it's getting fairly hard now," Brian observed, bucking his hips against his partner's thigh.

"Brian!" Justin couldn't help giggling, but did his best to keep them on track, for just a little while longer, anyway. "It's going to be more difficult. We'd never been together before … you know."

"Before you died," Brian said bluntly.

"Yeah." Justin replied quietly, letting his head rest on Brian's shoulder, letting himself regret for a moment all the years they hadn't had together while they were both alive. "So you know … that thing we had once we did get together … that was amazing for us, but it won't be the same for them as what they had before."

Brian nodded, kissing his lover's neck gently. "I know … but you know what, Sunshine?"

"What?"

"I'd rather have what we had than what they had."

"Seriously?" Justin skewed around to look into his face. "Why?"

Brian sighed. "Because I know myself," he said at last. "Because I know that I would have fought tooth and fucking talon to avoid letting myself get caught into any fucking "relationship" bullshit. I would have put you through Hell."

He sighed again. He hated talking about this shit.

"But this way … when you finally came along … it was like a fucking miracle, and I knew that right from the beginning. Right from the first moment I walked into this room, months before I even knew you were here, I knew I'd found something amazing and I was going to do everything I could to hold onto it."

Justin gasped, and hugged him tightly.

"Me, too," he said damply. "From the moment you walked into the house."

They experimented some more.

A while later, he sat up a little and said thoughtfully, "But you know, it wouldn't just have been you that fucked things up. I bet I did too. I was so fucking young back then … back before …"

He thought for a moment, considering the past. "And you know before the whole "gay" thing happened … I mean before the shit hit the fan about that … I'd been so fucking spoiled. I was smart, so I got good grades pretty easily. I wasn't exactly a troll, or weird looking or anything, so before all that shit I didn't get picked on a lot, and my parents were pretty well off so I had all the latest stuff – computers and games and phones and shit. I'd never really had to work or struggle for anything in my life till I came out."

Brian ran a hand through his hair, reveling in actually being able to feel the strands between his fingers.

"You made up for it."

Justin jerked a nod of acknowledgement, but went on, "But I bet I gave you shit. If I'd decided that I wanted to be with you, I would have totally stalked you and stuff. Whether you wanted it or not. I just would have been sure I could make you want me."

Brian gave him one of the slight shy smiles that always thrilled Justin's heart.

"Sounds about right," he said softly.

Justin beamed at him.

Then he figured his man deserved a reward, and he knew just how to give it to him.

"Have you looked in the mirror lately?" he asked.

Brian stared at him for a moment, and then suddenly found himself standing in front of his bedroom mirror.

What he saw made him laugh out loud in astonished joy.

"What the fuck?" he turned from side to side to admire his reflection and then peered closely at the refection of his face.

"I'm fucking hot!" he exclaimed ecstatically.

"Haven't I been telling you that forever?" Justin replied from the doorway.

Brian spun round and dived at him. He swung the young blond over his shoulder and headed for the bed, memories of how much stamina he'd had at thirty coming back to him. He wondered if you got a sore dick from fucking too much on this plane or whatever the fuck it was. Or if Justin could get a sore ass. He guessed they were about to find out.

*****

Days later, after Leisha had found that, probably due to her very real link to her father in law, she too could now see and hear both Brian and Justin; after the Valentine's Day dinner that the two couples had shared; after Gus had watched in something like shock while his father devoured food that he once would never have allowed anywhere near his mouth; after the wake and the funeral; after the kids' tears had dried once they were allowed to spend a little time in the studio room; after Josh had completely dumb-founded both his parents by asking, "How come Ganpa looks so young now?"; after all those things, Brian and Gus finally found a little quiet time to sit together and talk.

"I thought you might both go," Gus said. "I thought that maybe once you … once you died, once you were gone, Justin wouldn't be here anymore either."

He found the words hard to say. Losing one parent might be regarded as unfortunate losing his father and his brother in one stroke … he'd been afraid he couldn't have coped with that."

He looked up to find his father regarding him with one of the lips pulled in looks that Gus had learned meant he was trying to find the words to say something difficult to say or difficult to hear.

"What?" he asked.

Brian patted his knee, the kind of ghost touch Gus had long associated with Justin.

"I think we will, Sonnyboy."

"But … when?"

Brian paused for a moment. "I think we're still here because of him … the other Justin," he said.

Gus stared at him.

That made sense.

It made horrible, sad, wonderful sense.

"You think that when he … when he dies …"

Brian nodded. "You know we've been spending time with them both," he said. "We're getting pretty good at getting to that house and back again and Sunshine's determined to try to help them as much as we can."

It was Gus's turn to nod.

"We've talked about it. I think … we all think … that something went wrong somewhere. That Justin wasn't meant to die so young. We think that things are kind of working themselves back to how they should have been, and that when we're all together …"

"You'll go."

It wasn't a question.

Brian patted his knee again. Then he stood and moved over to the computer.

"If he goes slow, we'll have time to say goodbye," he said. "But who knows? Shit happens. It could be really quick."

After a couple of fumbles, he managed to switch the system on and looked suitably smug at his success.

"We're trying to put some stuff onto the system for you. Don't know if it will work, but if we do just fucking disappear, try and find it."

He turned to give a would-be glare at his son. "And don't fucking try to find it before then," he ordered.

Gus sighed.

"Promise me, Gus."

Their eyes met and finally Gus nodded. "Okay. I promise. No fucking spoilers."

Brian gave a soft huff of laughter and reached for his son. The two, so much alike, clung together tightly.

Gus got ready to leave; he knew that even in his transformed state his father found emotional scenes as difficult as he always had, but Brian surprised him by sitting down again.

"I told Justin I thought I was luckier than that other fuckwit who lives over there." He jerked his head in the direction of what Gus supposed was meant to indicate that other house.

"I think I was luckier where he was concerned, and I know I was fucking luckier with you."

Gus raised an eyebrow in a pure Kinney gesture.

Brian nodded in affirmation of what he was saying. "I know he got to spend more time with that Gus when you were a kid, all that stuff."

Gus fought back tears. This was still very much a sore topic with him. He'd never forgiven either of his mothers for the games they'd played using him and his father as pawns and now barely spoke to them. Neither of them had never even seen his daughter.

Brian reached out and touched his hand. "Sonnyboy, he might have had that, but he didn't have what I've had these last ten years. That Gus is married to Leisha, just like you, and they have Josh and Julia, but he lives in Vancouver. Brian sees them maybe once or twice a year for a few days."

That gave Gus pause for thought. These last ten years, even the time before he'd met Leisha, had been the happiest of his life. He supposed he could be happy with Leisha no matter where they lived, but living here, sharing his life so intimately with his father, that had healed deep deep hurts in both of them.

"I'd rather have had these last ten years with you than all the rest of the time that Brian had with his son."

Gus felt tears sting his eyes once more, but smiled through them at his father and nodded back at him.

"Me too," he said.

And knew it to be absolute truth.

His childhood had been difficult and he'd missed out on holidays and visits with his father. But even with those times, the rest would still have been pretty shitty. And that other Gus had never had the chance to know his father the way Gus knew Brian, not just as a father, but as a friend.

"That's my Sonnyboy," Brian said proudly, and any lingering regrets for those lost years vanished in the flood of love and gratitude Gus felt then.

He wondered if that other Gus could "see" his father, now that he was dead. Probably not, he figured. And even if he could, he'd probably just think he was going crazy.

But thinking that put him in mind of how that Gus must be feeling.

"Dad," he said. "Do me a favor. When you're there … in the other house … if you get a chance to do anything to help that Gus …"

He gave his father a watery smile. "I know they're probably not as close as us. But I know that Gus loved his Dad too, and he'll be hurting right now."

He stood. It was time to get back to Leisha and share with her the essence of this conversation.

His father stood also, still a little awkwardly, and to Gus's surprise reached out and caressed his face, in a gesture usually reserved for Justin.

"I'll do whatever I can Sonnyboy." He smiled. "I fucking love you."

They hugged and Gus went back to "real life", a little saddened at the thought that one day he'd lose even his father and Justin's ghostly presence; but somehow reassured too, that things were the way they were meant to be.

****

Some people might have wondered why Gus never changed anything in his father's rooms. The only thing that changed was that he and Leisha usually had their evening meal in the small dining room, just as his father had done every evening. But aside from themselves and Albrecht and Jorge, who never seemed to query it, no one ever went into that wing.

Only Josh and Julia liked to escape there occasionally.

"It's pwetty," Julia said.

"It's always sunny here," Josh affirmed.

There was no indication that either of them saw any more of Brian or of Justin than that one glimpse Josh had had the day of the wake, and Brian and Justin themselves said they didn't think the kids could see them, but they both seemed happy to curl up with a book or a favorite toy so eventually Gus and Leisha accepted it and didn't try to interfere.

But as time goes, it wasn't all that long till the light in the studio room faded from its usual golden glow and neither Brian nor Justin were anywhere to be found.

Gus found that very hard at first, and it was a few days before he could bring himself to open the system and try to find the file his father had left for him.

It wasn't really that hard to find. It was locked onto that particular outlet so it couldn't be opened from any other room, but it was labeled clearly "For Gus".

When he opened it, he found a single document and hundreds of image files.

The document was brief.

_"Hey Sonnyboy, guess we've fucking passed on or whatever the shit. Don't feel too bad about that. You know that you're with the one you're meant to be with and so am I._

_Justin says to tell you he loves you and don't forget that he wants lots of color planted among those green grasses round the fucking headstone. Shit, hang on._

_Gus … it's Justin … you know we talked about a cottage garden thing …_

_Literally over my dead body. Don't you fucking …_

_Ignore your father … it should have daffodils, yellow tulips and maybe a couple of red camellias and phlox and …_

_Yeah, yeah._

_You do what you fucking want with it, Sonnyboy, it's really yours now._

_I just wanted to say, in case I never managed to fucking do it before, I am so fucking glad you came to see me and gave me a chance to finally man up and be some kind of fucking father. I'm sorry I didn't fight harder for you when you were a kid, but like I told you once, I wouldn't have traded a minute of these last few years for all the lifetime before it. I hope that maybe on day you'll forgive me for being such a pussy and letting them take you away from me. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing, but you know what they say about fucking good intentions._

_I love you, Gus. You are the best thing I ever did with my life and I am so fucking proud of you. Thank you for being my son, and letting me share time your wife and your kids. Give them all hugs for me and tell them that I love them, that we both do._

_Bye, Sonnyboy._

_Enjoy the other shit we've put in here. Just hope you can fucking see it."_

When Gus had blinked away the tears, he finally managed to start opening the other files.

What he found there astonished him.

Somehow, by some miracle, they'd managed to find a way to capture images of Justin's art work.

He looked through image after image – paintings, drawings, charcoal sketches of his father, of him and his father, of Brian with Josh and then with Josh and Julia, some of him with Brian, Leisha and the kids. A few of just Brian and Justin. And one or two that included all six of them … their crazy, beautiful amazing family.

Gus put his head down on the desk and cried for sorrow and for love and for sheer thankfulness that by some weird-assed cosmic twist of fate he'd been given this amazing experience at the core of his life.

Then he went to find his wife and share the images with her.

He knew she'd love them.

And he hoped that wherever they were, his father and Justin knew how much their final gift had meant to him.

*****

They did.

They also knew, as Gus could not, that things were falling back into cosmic harmony.

The other Gus, Leisha and the kids had left Vancouver. They'd just moved into the "other" house.

It was, after all, the place where the Taylor-Kinney family had always been meant to be.


End file.
